What Hope Has Done, Chapter 1 (Book 2 in the What Time Has Done series
by alyssajeffersonbooks
Summary: *Sample Chapter* After Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy marry, what will become of the other Bennet sisters? This story is set in the "What Time Has Done" universe and follows the lives of Jane and Kitty after Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are married. As with all Alyssa Jefferson titles, this is a sample chapter. The full novel may be read on Amazon by searching for Alyssa. Thanks for reading!


What Hope Has Done

 _Second in the_ What Time Has Done _Series_

By Alyssa Jefferson

 _Synopsis_

After Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy marry, what will become of the other Bennet sisters? This story is set in the "What Time Has Done" universe and follows the lives of Jane and Kitty after Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are married.

Jane Bingley is delighted to finally marry Charles Bingley, whom she has loved for years—but when she moves into his Warwickshire estate, she finds things are not as they ought to be. The neighborhood, heavily influenced by the wealthy, proud family of Bingley's deceased ex-fiancée, have decided to shun her and her husband. Mr. Thomas Sterling, the eldest son of this family, is among the worst offenders, and when Jane invites her sister Kitty to stay with her at Whitewood Hall, Thomas wastes no time in offending the sister, as well. However, Kitty's strong principles and sense of right make her impossible to intimidate, and she refuses to allow the Sterling family's prejudices to influence her own behavior or lessen her enjoyments.

In time, Mr. Thomas Sterling comes to admire Kitty's passion and tenacity. As his feelings change, his behavior also alters, and he begins to make gestures of friendship toward Kitty that her answering coldness cannot discourage. When Thomas's interest in Kitty's painting leads to their embarking on a project together, they gradually fall in love—but the disapproval of Thomas's family threatens to overthrow everything.

This book is the second in the "What Time Has Done" Series, following the fates of each of the Bennet sisters after Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy's marriage.

 _Chapter 1_

Tragedy has its way of bringing out different characteristics in different people. While it cannot necessarily be said that the truest nature of man is revealed in tragedy, certainly some aspects of nature are emphasized, and others softened—so that, in short, the person who has lived through the tragedy is not quite the same person they were before it came. In some cases, a person who was hard and coarse might become softened by it; in others, a person who was delicate and hopeful might be hardened. Such is the case with many people, and such was certainly the case with Jane Bennet.

The death of her father when she was three and twenty years old came as a shock that would cause any young lady to grieve, but to a creature as delicate and good-natured as Jane Bennet, there was a secondary shock that was, in some ways, even worse. Their father's heart had failed him while he was in London, searching in vain for a wayward daughter who was living in sin with a gentleman of very questionable character from the militia. Lydia Bennet had neither sense nor principles to guide her rightly when her passions led her astray, and her errors, her crimes against all common decency and virtue, were perhaps more shocking to Jane than anything else could be. Having lived with Lydia for the entire fifteen years of her life, she had never seen anything to signal her to Lydia's being so very lost to what was right and good. Lydia was, she must allow, always a very silly, flirtatious girl—but what did this signify in a girl only fifteen years old? Would not she outgrow these faults? But now it seemed only too obvious that the whole family had been remiss in not correcting and guiding Lydia sooner. Her character, at fifteen years old, must be fixed forever. She was vain, impassioned, uncontrolled and uncontrollable. Her actions had led to ruin beyond anything her family could have dreamed—but, to Jane's sensitive and delicate mind, not beyond what was deserved. They had erred gravely in their management of Lydia, and now it was just that they pay for it. Jane felt the necessity of penance, but even under its severest pangs, she still felt traumatized by what had passed. That such wickedness could exist in the world—and that it could exist in her own family—was more than her delicate sense of honor could bear.

The break-up of the family that inevitably followed was no less jarring to Jane's sensibilities. The Bennet family's claims to their estate were only valid while their father lived; after his death, Longbourn would pass into the hands of his next male heir—a self-important, pompous man who came to claim his property within a week of his cousins' having been forced to relinquish it. Mr. Collins was married to the Bennets' friend, Charlotte, who was expecting a child and wishing to be soon settled. Jane was fortunate enough to remove to with her Aunt Gardiner to London before their arrival, but even at a distance, her heart bled with the knowledge that their beloved home would be lost to them forever. The family's relationship with Mr. Collins was not such that would warrant their remaining in the house as his guests, even if he had offered—but he had not so generous a disposition. The Bennet women, therefore, had nowhere to go. They were poor, having nothing but the interest of Mrs. Bennet's four thousand pounds to live upon. Jane, at least, could command a home with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, but where would the rest go?

The changes happened very rapidly. First, Lydia was finally discovered in London, and her mother received her again in Meryton with such complete failure to acknowledge or condemn her youngest daughter's actions as astonished even those who knew her best. She saw no reason why Lydia should not be welcomed at her brother and sister-in-law's home in London, and certainly had no scruples about bringing her home to live with herself. With a weak understanding and unjust temper, Mrs. Bennet placed blame exactly where it ought not to have gone, and her reaction to the whole affair only added to the shock Jane was suffering from.

After Lydia was sent home, Mrs. Gardiner wrote to suggest that Elizabeth join her in London, where the Gardiners could certainly make space for one more. Elizabeth had been the only member of the family to remain at Lonbourn due to the necessity of somebody's staying to welcome the Collinses. Being a particular friend of Charlotte, Elizabeth had a right and claim to that family's favor that no other sister had, and therefore the task naturally fell to her. Elizabeth surprised both aunt and sister, however, by declining this offer; by the time the invitation was received, Elizabeth had been offered and accepted a position as governess for Charlotte Collins and her unborn child. Charlotte was evidently very ill and in need of her friend's attendance, having no sensible companion in her husband, and probably wishing to do her friend good by giving her a home and a salary. Elizabeth, who had already been determined to find work if she could, would not go back on her word to her friend when this invitation was received; she was to stay at Longbourn as long as she was wanted. Meanwhile, Mrs. Bennet and her remaining daughters settled in Meryton to be near her sister Phillips and to make use of her servants and hospitality whenever possible.

Jane was settled in London, apart from all her family, most unhappily. She felt hurt that her sister Elizabeth had not agreed to join her there, and guilty for being unemployed while her younger sister had to work. Her other sisters had not been invited to London, for Mrs. Bennet had written so highly offensive an answer to Mrs. Gardiner upon learning that her daughter Lydia should not be welcome in her house as prevented her brother and sister-in-law from wishing to do her any additional favors.

Jane longed to find work herself, but having no formal education and no accomplishments to make her services valuable to any families in town, she was ill qualified as a governess. She had been brought up to be agreeable and domestic, rather than accomplished. Her Aunt Gardiner could hardly require anything of the sort from her; she was glad to host one of her favorite nieces, and only sorry that she could not do more for her. Jane had her own bedroom, maid, and clothing allowance—but these provisions only added to Jane's sense of guilt. She did not deserve any of this, when her sisters could have it not. She descended, therefore, into a kind of self-imposed penance. Though it was never asked or expected of her, she devoted herself to the children's lessons and upbringing. She worked tirelessly to entertain and educate them, doing all she could to be useful to the family.

Her aunt attempted to find entertainment and acquaintance for her in London, perceiving her to be isolated and depressed in spirits. She invited her to parties, offered to convey her anywhere in the carriage, and included Jane in all her plans for family travel and holidays. Jane, however, declined it all. She could enjoy nothing while she knew her family to be suffering. Moreover, her sense of guilt at what her sister had done was so excessive that she could have never justified to herself the possibility of going out into company while being known to be a Miss Bennet. She was thoroughly ashamed and dejected, wishing only for a comfortable home and the consolation of being useful to those people in her life who were among the dearest to her.

Amidst all these sufferings, Jane had at least one additional cause for repine that seemed to have been forgotten by nearly everybody except for herself. Prior to her father's death, she had been in love with a young man who was living in her neighborhood in Hertfordshire—a handsome, agreeable, lively gentleman by the name of Bingley. Charles Bingley was wealthy, which must have been a supreme attraction to many women, but Jane hardly thought of his wealth. It was his manners, charming and agreeable, that had attracted her to him, just as her sweetness and beauty had won his affection to her. She had been too modest to believe him truly on the point of proposing marriage to her, but the rest of her family evidently did believe it, making his sudden departure from their neighborhood that winter a shocking thing—and worse, the news that he did not plan to come back again. Jane had been smarting under the heartbreak of her loss, feeling herself very close to recovering her happiness, but not quite yet able to call herself happy, when Lydia's disappearance had happened and made Mr. Bingley's desertion seem only secondary in importance. For months of grief and change, there simply was not leisure to think about him.

Such tragic circumstances ought at least to have been her cure from thinking or caring about Mr. Bingley—but she was embarrassed to find that they had not been. From the time of her being fully settled in London, she began to remember him and think of him, and even to wonder if their paths might cross. This, in light of the shame her family was under, was exactly what Jane wished to avoid, and it became another reason for her to reject her aunt's kind offers of society and entertainment in town.

Despite her niece's being less in spirits than Mrs. Gardiner had ever seen her, she was not totally hopeless of Jane's one day recovering and marrying relatively well. Though her personality had lost some of its gaiety and optimism with the loss of her father, Jane still had a sweetness of manner and goodness of heart that made her an ideal candidate for matrimony. Having been nothing short of beautiful in her fullest bloom, she was still indisputably handsome as she grew older, having only lost the attraction of youth in her person. She was tall, fair, and elegant. Would she not make an ideal wife for some respectable tradesman in town? Mrs. Gardiner saw no reason why Jane's marriage should not be as fair as her own had been—for she considered herself very fortunate in her husband and situation. There were many young men among her acquaintance who would, she was certain, be wild for Jane.

In short, Mrs. Gardiner had forgotten any scruples Jane might have had against falling in love, and she was tireless in her efforts to entice Jane out of the house—though Jane was equally tireless in her committed refusal to permit herself any enjoyments. They went on in this manner, Mrs. Gardiner thoughtfully and carefully prodding and suggesting, and Miss Bennet demurely but firmly declining, until about Jane's nine and twentieth year. This was the first year of its occurring to Jane that, if she did not marry at some point, she should be a burden to her family forever. She had, somehow or other—she hardly knew how—worn away her youth in a manner that she was now almost ashamed of. She had devoted her time and attention so fully to a life of penance that her other duties she had neglected. At this age, she could now see that finding a situation in which she could support herself was a duty, and not a light one. She did not wish to be in her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner's family forever; she did not want to return to a home with her mother and sisters and endure all the unprincipled ignorance she knew she must find there. While she still did not wish to derive enjoyment from it, she ought to go with her aunt the next time she invited her to see and be seen about town.

It was an ordinary weekday when Mrs. Gardiner received an invitation to a party being given in honor of the eldest daughter of one of Mr. Gardiner's business associates. There would be, as always, many eligible young men there—though some might, perhaps, be too young for her twenty-nine-year-old niece. Still, Mrs. Gardiner was as consistent as ever in showing the card to Jane, saying that the party would be Friday, and would not she be so kind as to join her aunt and uncle there?

"Yes, I thank you," Jane had said. "I should be delighted to come."

Mrs. Gardiner was obliged to ask Jane to repeat herself.

"Indeed," Jane said, smiling, "I am pleased with the offer, and I wish to accept."

Mrs. Gardiner's perplexed expression lifted into an incredulous smile. "Shall you indeed join us? Oh, Jane! But then—what has changed? For years, you have never—that is, of course I am delighted that you are able to come—perfectly, perfectly delighted."

Jane laughed and spoke, understanding her aunt's confusion and not wishing to keep her in the darkness of confused astonishment. "I have been feeling better lately," Jane said. "You know how depressed my spirits have been, and I confess I hardly felt the passage of time for many years. Now all the children are in school, however, and I have had leisure to think and reflect as I have not done in many years."

"As to that," Mrs. Gardiner said, "I wish that you would take any time you need, any opportunity for leisure or repose. I do not wish you to be wearing away all your time looking after my children."

Jane shook her head. "It has been my own choice, however. It has been a blessing for me, for it has given me a place to focus, and a something useful to do. Without your children to dote on and think about, I would have drowned in my own thoughts. Now, I am much better—equal to thinking and reflecting as I ought to do. And in these times of reflection, I have realized that it is my duty to be cheerful, if I can, and to mix in the world. It is not healthy to be so secluded."

"No," Mrs. Gardiner said, eyes still wide with surprise. "I daresay it is not healthy. Jane, I am so very happy to hear that you will come with us! Your uncle will be delighted, as well, I am sure. If you are feeling so much better, and if you are willing to come out, then we may arrange many little engagements for us—for it is nearly autumn, and after that we shall have the Christmas holidays. And my dear Jane, you will be so admired everywhere we go, and all our friends will be so pleased to finally see you in company, for I daresay they have not seen you above twice outside of this house."

Jane allowed her aunt's excitement without comment, though the idea of being admired or known by anybody made her, out of habit, feel that old familiar feeling of dread and embarrassment at being known to be a Miss Bennet. It was a circumstance she must learn to cope with, however; she could not be always shying away from everybody on account of her sister's actions six and a half years ago. It was hardly a matter of prevailing gossip in town nowadays. She might get through a party without anybody talking about it or thinking of it at all.

The evening of the ball came, and Jane found that she had to put up with many attentions from her aunt that she would have rather done without. Aunt Gardiner insisted on her getting a new dress for the occasion, for it had been so long since she had shopped for a truly elegant gown that all of hers that had ever been suitable for the occasion were quite out of fashion. They had gotten a gown and new shoes, had her hair arranged by Aunt Gardiner's own maid, and even gone to a jeweler, that an old cross of Jane's might be fitted up with a new chain. In all, Jane was happy for Friday evening to come simply to be free from the attention of her well-meaning aunt. She would much rather nobody fuss over her, and nobody think of her—but such behavior would never result in her finding a husband.

In her youth, Jane had always loved balls. She was not an excellent dancer, but she was so pleasing to look upon that the gentlemen all used to think she was. This evening, she found herself not quite so sought after as she had been then. She was nearly thirty, and her health had never been so good in town as it was in the country, when she could have fresh air and exercise every day. She was faded now, and thinner than before. Yet she had not been so much changed that her looks could pass totally unnoticed, and several of the gentlemen in attendance gave her looks that showed they admired her. When dancing began, she found herself continually sought after as a partner, which was far more than she expected for the evening.

Her uncle introduced her to Mr. Gillingham, Mr. Weston, Mr. Kayes, and Mr. Lee. Her aunt re-introduced her—for she had been sometimes seen before—to Mrs. Lee, Miss Carpenter, and the Miss Westons. All were friendly and open, having none of the reserve that Jane well remembered from her more social past, none of the withdrawn civility of society manners. In a party such as this, filled as it was with mostly those affluent in trade and their well-educated children, Jane found herself quite unnoticed as a piece of local news. While she had worried excessively for years about being seen in public and known to be Lydia's sister, she was amazed to find that at least in this company, nobody remembered or cared what had happened so long ago to so distant a sister. Jane was here now, and her aunt and uncle were liked and respected by all; these acquaintances wanted to know Jane.

In the dinner that took place shortly after dancing, Jane was seated near a lady whom she believed she had seen before, though she could not quite place how she knew her. The reason, however, soon presented itself: it was a cousin of the Bingley family, resembling the ladies in countenance, but evidently their elder—unmarried and heiress to her own small fortune in trade, Miss Eliza Scott. Miss Scott was talking to her nearest neighbor about a circumstance that could not but interest Jane, though she was not a part of their conversation. They were discussing matrimony, disappointment in matrimony, and the chances and changes that must always characterize the futures of man.

"Nothing could have astonished me more," the young lady to Miss Scott's right was saying, "than learning that the very man who had courted me was to go to Ireland and marry Miss Ferguson. Miss Ferguson! With no dowry, no education, hardly a decent connection to her name—but then, he said that he loved her and wanted to marry her."

"I suppose we must wish them happy," Miss Scott said in a mild voice, though her expression showed her distaste where her words would not.

"That," the lady continued, "is just what we must _not_ wish them, for the marriage did not take place! They were found out by his elder brother, who separated the pair and threatened to withhold from his brother his place in the family business, were he to connect himself so ill. And I have never in my life seen any man so disappointed. One might have thought he had missed his chance at thirty thousand pounds, rather than merely three!"

"Shameful," Miss Scott said, "perfectly shameful. How a family can break off a marriage when two young people are in love, I shall never understand. But sometimes, it is worse. Sometimes, circumstances can be even worse than what you name! Take, for instance, my cousin Charles. Charles was to marry a young lady he was excessively fond of, a Miss Julia Sterling of Warwickshire. He bought an estate only two miles off from her family's to be close to her, and all was settled for them to marry last spring—but then, what do you think happened? She died! Her health had never been very good, but she caught a bad cold just after the Christmas holidays, and it gradually worsened until her lungs were almost worthless. She did not live to see February. Now, my poor cousin is living practically with the very family, their nearest neighbor, but unconnected and heartbroken. Poor, poor Mr. Bingley. He is such a dear, tender-hearted creature, and deserved much better."

Jane had not needed the word Bingley to know it was the very man she had used to love; the word Charles had roused her to full attention, and her recognition of the woman's face had done the rest of the business. It was, she knew, none other than the cousin she had sometimes heard spoken of by Miss Bingley as what she absolutely did not want to grow to become—an old maid. But hearing his name, after all this tragic history, gave Jane a thrill that ran through her body like ice water.

What did she think? First, that her heart could break over his suffering. She was not a spiteful woman; she held no grudge against him for disappointing her. He was still the most agreeable man she had ever met, and she had always wished him well, despite her own fate. He deserved to be happy and well-settled. To know hear that he had been disappointed so severely was a miserable circumstance to Jane.

Yet was she not human? Could she not, while she remained single, feel a moment's satisfaction—however fleeting—that he was single, as well? She knew she ought not to feel it; she knew it was wicked and wrong to rejoice in another human's suffering and loss, and she did not believe herself to be rejoicing, truly. It was only that a heart with any hope left in it, any hope at all, must feel the sudden lightness of it when learning that a long-forfeited wish is not so completely vanished, after all.

 _This concludes Chapter 1. To read more of this and other JAFF novels, find Alyssa Jefferson on Amazon. Thank you!_


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